Some people leave footprints on our heart.
Cats leave fur on our sweaters.
Dogs leave drool on our shoes.
Families will crap on our doorstep.
So when life gives you crap, garden it and make roses.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

A Tryanny of Cats

That's how they should be labelled especially this black and white tyrant.She sits on my knee between 8.30 and 10.30 so reading or knitting or crochet is out of the question.She likes to have food in the dish at all times even if she doesn't eat it immediately. I've made allowances for this because of the upheaval of leaving mum's house.I sit and break up whiskettes in a mortor and pestle because she only has four teeth left.She likes to go out the front door and in the back door but at night she likes the light on.She can spray crystal kitty litter 360 degrees. It's not so bad now that I've moved it more into the laundry and instead of ending up in the lounge, it just hits the laundry wall. Standing on crystal litter in bare feet in a dark kitchen makes for a lot of swearing.She likes one last stroll outside before settling down for the night but the stroll is at midnight and it doesn't matter if I've turned off the light and settled down for the night.She likes to go out at first light, fine in summer but now, re-training in progress.It didn't work this morning. Caterwauling in old worn out moggie voice which is like running a saw across violin strings. Staggered up to open door, bashed leg on blanket box, lose balance and do several pirrouettes across bedroom floor before crashing into door.Sobbing, swearing, groaning and snivelling, I opened the back door, made it go out (likes the front door) and said if it came near me again, it was dead.Reawakened at 9.30 by eyes boring into my brain but not a sound, silent communication.

This would all be bearable if the beast didn't crawl all over the BrickOutHouse when he calls in to pat her and tell her how much he's missing his baby. You can almost see the vibes while she's trying to tell him how vile I am to live with, well snap you little rotter.

River, it's killing him not being able to have her but he's at work all day and there are too many horrible brute dogs around there. He'd shoot every dog in the neighbourhood if anything happened to precious.

MStacks is right, pampered little beast who is at this moment wrapped in my cloak sound asleep.

Kath, never a truer word. I feed it after washing the dish, scoop the poop from the kitty litter, clean water, grind up the whiskettes and then I get to have my dinner. I'm too old, at one stage I had 4 cats, 3 dogs and 2 kids and that makes me exhausted just saying it.

Andrew, I can sense Mrs Slocombe lurking in the background.

Elisabeth, I dread to think about the day she goes to that big litter box in the sky. 6'4" is going to be distraught.Rh is complimentary? He must have his other face on.

Well, it's about time you showed up and let people know you're alive or is this just to let us know the latest piece of your body to be sliced, diced and stitched?

Don't start me Davo, feral cats are only that when they're dumped in the bush and they wouldn't be dumped if they were neutered, not sold in pet shops and people would stop with the myth that cats should have one litter before neutering. Besides, it give the dingoes something to eat.

Robbert, "huge" is such a mundane word. MAJESTIC as in QE11 or Titanic or Isle de France, now there's a discription of me as I sail through life.